Rathore's Vengeance

Thirty Seven

Abhimanyu walked behind Misha as she chatted with Isha and Arthi. She turned suddenly, only to collide straight into his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around her back, pulling her close before she could fall. Misha felt a shiver run down her spine as her eyes met his, locking for a brief moment. His lips curved into a smug smirk as he helped her stand upright, but before he could speak, Misha quickly moved away, her face flushed. He followed her, noticing her flustered state.

Misha stood by the counter, breathing heavily. The warmth of his touch still lingered on her back, and she gripped the edge tightly to steady herself.

"Want a drink?" Abhimanyu asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the counter beside her.

Misha's expression darkened. "No, thanks," she replied tersely.

"Don’t get mad, it's just a soft drink." He raised his eyebrows, amused by her reaction, but Misha sighed, her irritation evident, and walked away.

Not one to give up easily, Abhimanyu followed her. He was certain something was off-she was avoiding him, and that didn’t sit well with him. He needed an explanation, and as a businessman, he wasn’t used to being ignored.

His patience thinning, Abhimanyu caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. His anger simmered beneath the surface, his jaw tight. Misha, startled, met his intense gaze with a fierce glare.

"What’s your problem?" she snapped, yanking her arm, but his grip tightened.

"Why aren’t you talking to me?" Abhimanyu demanded, his voice cold and controlled, though his irritation was clear.

Misha frowned, her expression hardening. "When did I say I wasn’t talking to you? Did I tell you that?" she challenged, her glare intensifying.

"Do you think I’m too stupid to notice that you’re avoiding me?" he ground out through clenched teeth, his anger rising. His grip on her wrist tightened as he spoke, his frustration spilling over.

"And so what if I am? It’s my choice who I speak to. You don’t get to decide that for me," Misha retorted, her irritation matching his, her fearlessness evident.

Abhimanyu’s anger flared. He stepped closer, towering over her, but with a quick glance around at their surroundings, he sighed, reigning in his temper. He pulled her with him, gripping her wrist tightly as they made their way to a secluded balcony, away from prying eyes. Once they reached the isolated spot, he turned to face her.

"Once again, why are you not talking to me? Give me a reason," he demanded, his voice low, the threat of his anger palpable. "Then you can continue this childish act."

Misha crossed her arms, her eyes cold. "I don’t owe you anything, Abhimanyu. I don’t need to give you a reason for anything," she shot back, her frustration reaching its peak. She was tired of him acting like her feelings didn’t matter, like she was nothing to him.

Abhimanyu’s patience snapped. He slammed her against the wall, pinning her between his arms. Misha gasped in shock, but quickly composed herself, though her heart raced from the proximity.

"I am your husband, damn it!" Abhimanyu growled, his voice dangerously low, his teeth clenched in frustration.

"And since when has that mattered?" Misha shot back, trying to control her emotions, though she couldn’t ignore the heat from his body so close to hers. His presence overwhelmed her, but she wouldn’t show weakness.

"Misha Abhimanyu Rathore-you carry my name. Don’t make me angrier than I already am," Abhimanyu warned, his tone calming but still laced with danger. He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her closer once more. The touch of his hand against her bare skin sent a shiver through her, but she remained silent, standing rigid, unwilling to give in to the effect he had on her.